


let me be your coffeepot

by problematic_pleasures



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aged-Up Morty Smith, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dom/sub Undertones, Dysfunctional Relationship, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Manipulation, Praise Kink, ambiguous setting, degradation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: Morty made a mistake last night, and now he has to make it up to Rick.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	let me be your coffeepot

**Author's Note:**

> recently got caught up on r&m and have had a serious urge to write some fic for them. finally managed to crank this out, and I'm pretty pleased! this is set in some kind of vague future where morty and rick live together. 
> 
> title comes from [i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJLQCf4mFP0) which is a very them song imo. 
> 
> enjoy!

The hairs on the back of Morty’s neck rise to attention the moment Rick’s socked feet brush the threshold that separates the kitchen from the hallway. Morty doesn’t turn to face him, not right away. He focuses on the coffeepot with a slight frown. They don’t use it a lot: Morty isn’t especially fond of coffee and Rick only likes it when he can dump a flask or two into it until it’s more liquor than bean juice. Morty strains his ears over the sound of the coffeepot rumbling to life; he catches the faint _schip_ of Rick leaning against the doorframe, the soft _ffsh_ of him crossing his arms.

Eventually, coffee starts to fill the pot and Morty lets out a quiet cheer of success. Without turning to look at Rick, Morty slips away from the counter and toward the cupboard full of liquor. He grabs a bottle of bourbon, not quite top-shelf but not swill either. A balance for a lazy morning—though Morty suspects the lazy morning won’t last very long.

Morty returns to the coffeepot and sets the bourbon aside. He flinches instinctively when he hears Rick move away from the threshold, even though his footsteps are silent on the linoleum floor. Morty twitches when two large hands land on his waist, but otherwise he lets Rick wrap around him like the touch-starved creature he pretends not to be.

“M-Mo-ourgh-ty,” Rick hums, “what’s all th—what are you doing?”

Morty bites his bottom lip at the unmistakable feeling of Rick’s erection digging into his lower back. “I-I-I just wanted to, to apologize for last night.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder at Rick, instead watching as the coffee steadily fills the pot. It’s slowed to a drip now, almost finished. Morty thinks back to the night prior for a brief, guilty second.

It’d been one of his rougher nights. One of the nights where the weight of his life experience felt like it was crushing him. Made him feel like a bug under a steel-toe boot. He’d taken it out on Rick; he almost always takes it out on Rick, because Rick is the only one around anymore. Back in the day, when he was still a fumbling teenager, he’d sometimes take it out on mom or dad or Summer. But now it was always Rick. Rick bears the brunt of his panic attacks, his fits of anger, his spiraling out of control.

“Morty,” Rick murmurs, voice firm.

Morty blinks. “I’m s-s-suh-sorry, Rick.” He’d thrashed in Rick’s hold the night before after waking the older man up with his screams. He’d managed to land a pretty solid hit to Rick’s jaw before he got shoved out of bed, made to sleep on the couch for the night. It had been cold and lonely, and Morty had spent the rest of his night crying. His sleep had been fitful but he feels far from sleepy, now.

“It’s okay, Mo-eurgh-Morty.” Rick’s hands rub soothingly under the hem of his tee, over the jut of his hip bones. Morty shivers when chapped lips press against the side of his neck. “But making coffee doesn’t really fix it, does it?” Another kiss. “You re-really fuckin’ suckerpu-ouugh-nched me, M-Morty.”

Morty sighs through his nose and tries to blink away the tears that threaten to fall. He reaches up a shaking hand above them to get a mug from the cupboard, keenly aware as he does that it presses his ass against Rick’s crotch. Rick hums appreciatively behind him, but Morty focuses on his plan. He fills the mug with half coffee, half bourbon, then starts to twist in Rick’s hold.

Rick’s grip tightens and pins Morty in place, leaving him pressed against the kitchen counter and cupping a mug of hot coffee in trembling hands. “You wanna make it u-uurp to me?” Rick asks, soft and gruff.

“Yea-yeah of c-c—please, Rick,” Morty whines.

He startles when Rick abruptly yanks his pajama pants down. Morty’s got nothing on underneath them and he shivers even though it isn’t especially cold. He spreads his legs when Rick shoves at his thighs; he bends over the counter when Rick presses a hand to the center of his back.

Morty shudders when Rick steps away long enough to grab the spare bottle of lube they keep in the drawer with the superglue and the scissors. Morty considers asking if Rick grabbed the right bottle—he doesn’t want a repeat of a few months ago, with Rick’s fingers superglued to Morty’s asshole—but figures if it happens again, it’s a punishment he deserves. He’s still holding the coffee and the scent is making him dizzy, drunk by proxy.

Rick returns just as suddenly as he left and it’s as though Morty’s body is fine tuned to respond to him. A shiver wracks his spine, the mug quakes in his hand, he lets out a shaky breath. His dick is already hard and sweat is beading at the back of his neck in anticipation.

Rick preps him without preamble; he starts off with two knobby, long fingers reaching deep inside Morty. He opens him up fast and easy, playing Morty like he’s nothing more than an instrument made specifically for Rick’s hands. Morty moans into the coffee cup, staring at his own wide-eyed expression in the murky reflection. Morty wails when Rick adds a third finger, just this side of dry and rough.

“Ri-Ri-Rick,” Morty gasps, chest heaving as he sinks further onto the marble countertop. It’s cool under his shirt, and his nipples feel oversensitive brushing against the cotton of his tee. “Please,” he begs, half desperate for it to stop, half desperate for it to never end.

“The cuh-coffee was a nice touch, Mo-ourgh-ty,” Rick says. He fingerblasts Morty and speaks as though he’s got nothing more pressing going on than deciding what they’ll do for dinner. “But I’d rather yo-you keep my cock warm instead.”

Morty opens his mouth—to apologize, to beg, to cry—but all the air is stolen from his lungs when Rick’s fingers slip from his body to be immediately replaced with his cock. Rick wastes no time slamming into him, balls slapping against Morty’s ass.

Rick’s groan fills the kitchen, deep and throaty. “That-that’s it, Morty.” His thumbs are disarmingly gentle where they rub at the dips in the small of Morty’s back. “Good b-burgh-boy.”

Morty whimpers. His vision swims as a mixture of pleasure and pain clouds his thoughts. He’s used to the feeling of Rick’s dick splitting him open but it’s been just long enough—a couple days—that the stretch aches in a way that’s not entirely pleasant. Morty swallows a sob and thinks, _it’s what I deserve_. He deserves the edge of the pain, the shocks along his spine that say _too fast, too much, too soon_.

Morty presses back against Rick. “Please,” he pants.

“Oh, I’m gonna give it to y-you, Morty,” Rick says, voice dark and dripping with promise. “Wanna sa-savor it first.”

Morty drops his head to the counter, holding the coffee above his head. He stiffens when Rick’s hand leaves his hip only for it to curl around the mug instead. Morty relinquishes the mug then clenches his own hands in his hair as if that’ll ground him. Rick slurps at the coffee noisily behind him, all the while thrusting slowly into Morty. It’s leisurely and maddening and Morty muffles his groan against the countertop.

“Yeah, M-Morty,” Rick groans in return. He thrusts a little faster, somehow never spilling a drop of the coffee-bourbon mixture. “Should ju-urp-just keep you like this all the—for forever, keep you like this forever.” Rick presses all the way in, his shirt rustling against Morty’s back. “No muh-more adventures, just grandpa’s little boy wa-argh-ming grandpa’s cock.”

Morty whines. “Please, Rick.” He hiccups around the tears that finally dribble down his cheeks sluggishly.

“Please what, M-urrp-Morty? What d-do you want?”

“You,” Morty sobs, “j-just you, Ri-Rick, and our adventures.”

“You sure about that?” Rick sounds smug and it should make Morty angry but it only makes him desperate. “You didn’t sound tha-that way last night. Sang a different tune when you punched me in the fucking face, Morty.” The hand not curled around the mug digs into Morty’s hip, nails biting into his skin. “S-suh-sounded a lot like you hate my fuckin’ guts, M-M-Morty.”

“No, no, no,” Morty shakes his head rapidly. He can hear the faint drip of his tears hitting the counter. “I don’t, don’t hate you, Rick.” He gasps for air, throat tight with his sobs. “L-love you, Rick, just you.”

The mug clatters to the counter, empty. Rick’s hand, now free, reaches for Morty’s hair and knots in his slight curls. “That’s fucking right, Morty. I’m the o-o-only one you need, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Morty cries out as he bends to Rick’s will, letting his head get yanked back and his back arching. “Th-th-the only one.”

Rick tugs again, forcing Morty to stand suddenly. Morty scrambles to brace his hands on the counter, arms shaking and struggling to hold himself up. Rick hooks his chin over Morty’s shoulder, voice a firm, bourbon-drenched vibrato right in Morty’s ear.

“And you better fucking remember that, Morty,” Rick growls.

Morty can’t speak, can barely breathe, so he just nods. He can barely do that, with Rick’s hand in his hair, but it’s good enough. Rick’s thrusts suddenly speed up, deeper and harder. Every thrust has Morty’s hips hitting the countertop with a painful thud; even his hard cock slaps against the cabinets in front of them, the shock of pain pushing Morty closer to the edge. He wants a hand on him, a tight fist to fuck into, but he knows he doesn’t deserve it today.

Rick’s hand flexes in Morty’s hair and he speaks again. “Thank you for the coffee,” he murmurs, voice almost genuine. “You’re a good li-little cockslut, Morty.”

Morty gasps and swears his heart skips a beat. He blinks and it takes him a moment to realize he’s shaking in Rick’s hold, his come splattering the cabinets in front of him, dripping onto his thighs. His vision swims again as he gives himself over to the repetitive sensation of Rick pounding into him, relentless, until he’s had his fill.

It’s only Rick’s hands on him that keep Morty standing against the onslaught. Rick’s last thrust pushes Morty up onto his tiptoes; he feels like a ragdoll, but in a way that leaves him warm and pleased. Rick’s come fills him up and leaves him burning up inside with the sensation of being owned by the one person who understands him. Rick trembles against his back, hips working in jerky little circles as he rides out his orgasm.

Rick buries his face against Morty’s neck. He mouths over the skin softly, unbearably gentle in contrast to his eager lust only moments prior.

Morty still feels unsteady but doesn’t tip over when Rick lets go of his hair. “Rick,” Morty murmurs. His mouth is dry, his eyes hurt from crying, his hips are sore.

“Shh, shh, Morty, shh.” Rick’s hands rub soothingly across his body, from his shoulders to his thighs. Rick’s fingers smear through the come on Morty’s thighs and rub it in. “You ma-auuugh-ke a shitty cup of coffee, Morty,” he says, and it sounds fond and sweet. Morty’s toes curl against the linoleum.

“Thanks Rick,” Morty says, leaning against his grandpa.

Rick kisses his sweaty temple, a lingering gesture. “Seriously, M-Morty, fuckin’ _awful_ coffee.”

Morty sighs contentedly. 

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm currently taking simple/short rick/morty prompts on my tumblr if you wanna send stuff in!](https://problematic-pleasures.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
